psyche of the unhinged

Intro: Into the Darkness

I am a super hero.

I can become an entirely different person with the figurative flip of a switch in the literal time frame of one. I do not experience pituitary disturbance and my skin doesn’t turn an attractive shade of green, but Banner & Hulk, Jekyll and Hyde are both familiar realities.

I have the ability of accurate and extended recall. I can retain unusual, distinctive and even nondescript details others wouldn’t notice on a photograph. For me, they’re an indelible icons locked carefully away once imprinted. No information is trivial.

I have been identified as a ‘wordsmith’ most of my life. Even as a precocious youngster, I was experimenting with language with functional capacity and understanding that was significantly and profoundly beyond the level of my chronological peers.

My mind operates largely at an accelerated rate. Always. If presented with a choice, rather than simply adopting lex parsimoniae, my gray matter prefers to run through every conceivable scenario within the immediate confines of that choice, throwing in some wild card what-the-fuckery for good measure and if only two minutes have passed, continues on to add some genuinely ludicrous outcomes to round the whole crazy pie out.

Above all, I have a very unique insight into people. Most can’t, don’t or won’t see others for what they truly are. I don’t mean the YouTube personality that says one thing and shills another. I mean as simply as looking at a person and seeing all of the detritus piled in their souls that they think they can hide from others. You cannot bullshit a bullshitter and I’m usually the biggest one around.

Why all this self-aggrandizing? I promise you aren’t ready for this shoe, but it’s dropping.

I am mentally ill.

Details forthcoming over the life of this unburdening of the soul, so to speak.

I am possessed of a number of diagnoses, disorders and syndromes that may find resonance with you if you are reading this. It may also sound like a barrel of crazy no one should find themselves in. That, is also true. If given the choice, no human would live like this. It is a dangerous, frightening, lonely, desolate world. As the gatekeeper and sole occupant, I am peeling back the veneer because it’s about time someone understood what it’s like to live crazy from someone who is tired of being ashamed that she’s crazy.

I recently revealed to my therapist that I think our session goals should migrate to a different direction. After hearing my reasoning, I think she was understanding of my decision and if anyone can help me draft a game plan for success, it is her. Unwavering faith. I have decided I no longer seek to ‘rejoin society’. I no longer lust after the mantle of a ‘normal’ life.

As I build and reinforce my identity well past the time such is accomplished in a traditional life, my goal is not to be of the people. My goal is to be me, subsequently navigating the murky waters of learning to not be preoccupied with the inherent criticism of that choice by those who are ‘put together’.

I am sick.

I am different.

I am fine.

My path will be difficult, but at least now, I finally have one.

To be discussed: Borderline Personality, DDNOS, Complex PTSD, Dysthymia with markers of Melancholic and Atypical, Severe Anxiety Disorder with markers of Generalized, Social and Panic. My therapist and I have also discussed the idea of limited but certainly marked hallmarks of Attachment Disorder. Given the history, it fits and makes sense. Looking, walking and quacking ducks.